Pappa Zulu – Chapter 3
“The ultimate aim in this war, the only aim when all is said and done, is to hit the enemy where he lives. Destroy the Whiskeys means of propagation, and you destroy them.”
-Major General Michael Thur
“How soon?”
Doctor Ross stood stock still in front of his desk, his hands behind his back and his lab whites arranged impeccably. His hair was also immaculately styled, every follicle flattened and slicked back. It was how he chose to present himself every time they had a meeting now, nothing left to chance.
Combined with the small frown he always seemed to wear, Thur couldn’t help but feel that it was an expression of contempt. The ensemble seemed to be a giant, sarcastic statement, a disdainful representation of what he thought of military discipline. And he wasn’t too afraid to convey those specific emotions whenever he spoke either.
“Eight weeks, maybe more.”
“Eight weeks?” said Vasquez with dismay. “After all this, we’re still looking at another two months?”
Ross directed his scowl to the Mage’s second. “It takes time to isolate antibodies, sir, let alone to reproduce them in vast quantities.”
“Time is of the essence, Doctor. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly making good on our losses around here.”
Ross lowered his head to conceal the smirk that formed on his lips. “Then might I recommend a change in tactics?”
“Might I recommend -”
Thur raised his hand to prevent the onslaught of profanity he knew must be coming. “Doctor, what the Lt. General is trying to say is that we need the inoculate sooner. Resettlement has already begun and we can’t expect to guarantee the residents long term safety so long as the chance for infection remains.”
“Yes, sir,” he said with a breath. “But since we are on the subject, I might ask why no official timetables have been produced. It might help to motivate my staff if we had a hard date to work with.”
Vasquez jumped in before Thur could stop him. “Perhaps if your lab had given us some hard numbers on how long they can last without food. The last estimates were quite… inconsistent.”
“Precisely because the results were… inconsistent,” Ross replied, parroting his tone. “As I said in my report, the subjects tested ranged anywhere from sixty eight days to a one hundred and two. All depending on variations in their metabolism and level of activity. Hardly the stuff of hard numbers, yes?”
“Doctor!” Thur yelled. Ross flinched ever so slightly from the outburst. He turned to Vasquez, said in a quieter, even tone. “General… Let’s not waste time with petty bickering or finger pointing.” He waited for them to both give him a nod of understanding before continuing. “Now… the order of the day, Doctor, is for you and your staff to synthesize that inoculate as soon as possible. If you need additional resources and staff, then say so now. Otherwise, we expect a first batch in six weeks.”
Ross seemed about ready to object, to say that wasn’t enough time. Instead, he took a deep breath and seemed to consider the offer for additional help. “I could use another lab tech to pick up the slack,” he said. “We’re also hard pressed within our existing facilities. If we could expand…”
“Where were you thinking?” Thur asked. Ross immediately smiled.
“My labs in Albuquerque. If the troopers have cleared the city, we might consider investigating to see if they are still intact. If so, I could set up a satellite lab there, coordinate it with out efforts here. If not, we could at least strip it for available tools and resources. That ought to help us speed things up.”
Thur looked to Vasquez, who seemed surprisingly on board with the idea.
“Albuqurque remains contested ground, still. But I can certainly communicate your request to the BCT. Assuming they find the lab more or less intact, what kinds of equipment should they requisition?”
“Incubators,” Ross said quickly. “We’d also need the centrifuges, the lab’s compliment of microscopes and DNA scanners. Just about everything in there would be of use…” He paused and raised a finger for emphasis. “I must mention that the lab is a sensitive place and will not respond well to grenades or bombs.”
Thur smiled. “Yes, you said as much when we first went in. I can assure you, the APD building remains intact, as per my orders.”
Ross nodded but looked less than confident. Vasquez had returned to a similarly bitter state as well. That left Thur in the middle, trying to arbitrate between the two mutually hostile colleagues. He suppressed a small chuckle as he considered what Vasquez had recommended the night before.
“I don’t like his attitude,” he said. “And I’m almost positive he’s stalling, maybe even going back to his old ways. I say, throw him back in the stockade. And this time, make sure he’s sharing one with a monster.”
How many times had he been forced to say that they still needed a lead researcher, and no one accessible was as qualified as Ross? And at the same time, Ross had complained bitterly that he couldn’t conduct these briefing sessions with the Lt. General’s constant “negativity” and “arrogant demeanor”.
He wondered if it might be a better use of his time and energy to simply put Vasquez and him in a cage and let them settle their differences that way. But he knew how that would end. He’d be short one researcher and Vasquez would have acquired a taste for researcher blood. No one in the labs would be safe…
